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Astrid would not be participating in their archaic ritual. His bed would be inevitable, and her wedding sheets would stain crimson. Only it wouldn’t be her virgin blood darkening the fine silk she imagined adorned his bed.

She splayed her fingers and made a momentary fist before relaxing her hand.

“I’d like to slit their throats,” Astrid said absently as they passed the cells lining either end of the hallway.

Sterling arched a brow. “Father insists I have nothing to offer and should bend to the will of a male. Why must I pay for his army? He can lie beneath King Ambrose and buy the army he covets himself.”

Sterling shook his head and ran a hand through his thick black hair. “You shouldn’t say such things, Princess.” Astrid glared up at him, and he returned her stare. “Can I please escort you to your engagement dinner?”

“No.”

The elaborate meal was a veneer of wealth and sophistication obscuring the evening’s true purpose. It was a cattle auction, and her buyer had come to collect. She couldn’t turn her fate but would serve her kingdom in the manner she preferred, down to the final moment.

King Ambrose Morana might soon sequester her to his frozen domain, but he would never control her.

Sterling turned and she followed him into a dimly lit cell. Damp moss crept from the corners, stretching to a single barred window no bigger than a brick. It offered a narrow view of the armory’s courtyard above them.

A dirt-streaked male hung, shackled to a pillar in the center of the room. His wrists were bound above his head and Astrid narrowed her eyes at the spiked chains binding his rust-colored wings.

Prisoners tended to arrive stubborn, believing their bravery would somehow win out. Slicing into the leathery membrane of their prized, yet most sensitive, features proved particularly effective. She reveled in the way they cried as she maimed them.

The way they always died weak.

Astrid scrutinized the spy. Her honored guests gathering in the Royal Hall were from northern Ledivion, a region recognized for wings that ranged in color from gray to black.

Those with wings of reds and oranges dwelled in the southern territories, and while it was uncommon for them to travel together, it wasn’t impossible.

She stepped closer to the bound male. His clothing was adequate but torn. A series of cuts, burns, and dried blood decorated his large frame. Astrid stopped in front of her newest plaything and glanced at Sterling.

“Are you sure he’s not with our esteemed guests?” she asked, returning her attention to the chained male, who grimaced and lifted his head. Astrid held his gaze and continued, “I’d hate to torture one of my future husband’s males.”

“He’s not, though your king will take custody of him when you depart tomorrow,” Sterling informed her.

The male grinned and licked his bloody teeth. “Are you another one of his whores coming to stab me?” he asked, shifting his broad shoulders. “You can suck my cock instead of his if you want a go at me.”

In the span of a moment, Sterling’s hand closed over the male’s throat and his head cracked against the stone pillar. The captive glared at his tormentor, completely unconcerned with her.

Astrid couldn’t decide if she should be offended or laugh. The tied fool didn’t recognize her. For the last three years her reputation had preceded her, and most males lamented the sight of her.

A flush of excitement spread across Astrid’s cheeks. He’s a real plaything.

“You will address the princess with respect,” Sterling rasped, deathly quiet.

“He doesn’t have to bow to me,” Astrid purred.

She knew Sterling entertained company in the dungeons from time to time, but he must be catching the eye of some high-ranking ladies. Their winged companion was mistaking her for one of Sterling’s moonlight trysts.

Astrid toyed with the prisoner’s belt and unfastened it, meeting his stare. The foolish male’s eyes skimmed across the silk bands draped over her breasts and lingered.

Males, too often, saw beauty and dismissed the threat beneath the allure. A lustful mistake she happily exploited.

The prisoner rattled his shackles as he leaned into her. “Untie me,” he groaned, “and I’ll show you what a real cock feels like.”

“Will you?” Astrid asked coyly. She pulled his dick free and reached lower, cupping his balls. They were heavy, and a shuddered moan slipped from him as she gently squeezed.

“Fates, darling, are you a palace whore?” He leaned his head back and stared at Sterling beneath heavy lids. “Is she my complimentary fuck before you execute me?”

Astrid laughed, drawing his attention. Males were so protective of this relatively small sack of flesh, but they let anyone with a pretty face handle it.

She reached up, twisting the large ruby at the end of her hair stick.

A subtle click she felt more than heard freed her weapon as the smaller rubies dangled from chains gathered in her palm.

Astrid extracted her stiletto dagger, and the male stiffened. His pupils dilated as his gaze followed the point. Astrid tapped it to the center of his lips.

“The blade isn’t what you should be afraid of,” she murmured sweetly. “I have much darker gifts.”

Astrid exhaled and tilted her head back as her magic engulfed her. Keeping it at bay took concentration, but as soon as she relaxed her hold, the power came in a furious rush. Her vision blurred, then refocused as flickering lights danced in her vision.

Souls were bright and golden, glittering through the bodies housing them. The sparkling aura was malleable to the E’lan Vital. They felt like water and reminded Astrid of painting with alcohol inks. The shining mass was weightless, and eagerly obeyed her slightest whim.

Her hands were necessary to manipulate a soul, and Astrid had this male by the balls.

She drew his soul from his legs and the prisoner screamed as he collapsed. He struggled, scuffing his feet against the dirt-covered floor like a broken puppet. The poor thing was suspended both by the iron shackles cutting into his wrists and Astrid’s tight hold on his reddening testicles.

Panic lit his amber eyes anew, incited by a sudden understanding. “You’re the Carnifex! The Anima Carnifex!”

Astrid batted her lashes at him and leaned back to glance down at his useless legs before tsking.

Only the E’lan Vital could see the soul shining through the flesh, and her plaything’s legs no longer held luster.

How she wanted to impart her sight to him.

Let him know what exactly she planned on taking.

The male screamed in earnest, looking past her to Sterling as she lowered the blade.

“He won’t help you,” Astrid sighed against his cheek.

She drew the blade over the taut skin of his sack, allowing the razor-sharp edge to do the work. A clean pull, as though she were slicing a prized cut of beef.

A second swipe of her stiletto freed the male’s testicles and his sweat-drenched body fell heavy against the chains.

“Kill me,” he whispered.

His voice was hollow and broken. A beautiful melody to her ears.

Astrid lifted her dagger to his chest and gently traced her index and middle fingers down his sternum.

Hundreds of brilliant golden threads arced from the male’s body and curled back, reentering his flesh before pulling tight.

Astrid envisioned it as stitching two fabrics together, only her needlework was the soul and the flesh.

A single stitch lasted a day or two among the E’lan Vital, but Astrid’s bindings lasted more than a week.

She barred the male’s soul from his balls and lifted the flesh she’d parted from him to his mouth. He recoiled, quaking as he pressed his back into the pillar. The spiked chains trapping his wings sliced through the membrane with every quiver, but her newest toy continued to struggle.

“What I’ve taken from you is lost. You won’t regenerate. It will heal as though they were never there. If you don’t want me returning to do the same to your cock, tell Sterling exactly what he wants to know, hm?” Astrid hummed, patting the side of his face.

A single tear tracked from the corner of his eye before vanishing into the blood and sweat smeared over his stubble. He stared at the ground and muttered, “I will die with honor.”

“You will die,” she said sweetly, before whispering the remainder of her promise, “ when I allow it. ”

His mouth slacked and his sun-streaked eyes dulled like so many others before him—in stark realization.

The power thrilled her, racing through her veins and making her wet. She stepped away from the broken male and turned to Sterling.

“Will you see Foxglove gets these? They’re his favorite,” she said, containing her power once more.

The glimmering soul stars faded, and Astrid glanced down at herself. Red dots splattered across her thighs and skirt. It was too subtle. Astrid wiped her bloodied hand over her throat and dragged her hand lower, between her breasts.

“What are you doing?” Sterling snapped, turning to retrieve a cleansing towel.

Astrid ignored her friend and started toward the Royal Hall.

Her father used her to secure an army. If blood was to be his currency… he shouldn’t be squeamish seeing it.